May 252011
 

We just picked the boys up from their last day of preschool. In BigBrother’s case, it was his last day of preschool ever. I’ve been an emotional mess most of the morning, looking through old pictures and whining to FireDad: “Where have my babies gone?

Despite all of that, these boys sure are cute. And they’ve grown this year. Changed. Learned — good things and bad.

First/Last

First/Last

Brothers First/Last

I think, perhaps, the most mind-boggling comparison is to look at BigBrother on his first day of preschool ever in August 2008. I seriously shed a few tears.

2008/2011

I still see that little, teeny-tiny boy in the bigger version. The head tilt. The sparkle. But he’s grown — so much — in the past three years. He was reading to me this morning while we were all getting ready and I just wanted to put some bricks on his head and yell, “SLOW DOWN! I can’t handle the speed at which we are progressing through your life! YOU ARE MAKING ME SAD!” But I helped him sound out “first” before telling him to brush his own teeth. And sighed, yet again.

And knowing that LittleBrother is on the same fast track makes me flip out just a little. I can’t believe the changes he has made this year, and I also want to put some bricks on his head and say, “QUIT TRYING TO KEEP UP WITH YOUR BROTHER! YOU WILL GROW UP FAST ENOUGH.” But I watch him put on his shoes and walk away. And I sigh. Again.

And now it is summer in the FireHouse. We have a busy summer, full of travel and camping and vacations and all sorts of summery goodness. I don’t want to think about the fall just yet. So many changes will come this fall. I want to put bricks on this summer and say, “STAY. FOR JUST AWHILE LONGER.” But it won’t. It will fly by.

Just like preschool did.

Apr 182011
 

I mentioned that I forgot school picture day last month.

It was the morning after a long, anxiety filled night and my loving husband let me sleep in. As he got to school, he realized that it was picture day. He dutifully returned home after dropping off the boys, filled out the form (that, no, I had not filled out), wrote a check and returned to school with the necessary stuff to capture our boys forever on (digital) film. When I realized the error of my ways, I panicked. They were in t-shirts! And sneakers! Woe!

Quite a few people said that they had forgotten picture day in the past and that those photos ended up being their kids’ best shots. Ever. I rolled my eyes, panicked some more and wept into my pillow. (Note: The morning after an anxiety attack I’m a little, uh, dramatic.)

The pictures came back today. Hot snot if you guys weren’t right. My kids look like… my kids.

First we have Mr. SchmoozerPants:

Schmooze!

Followed by Mr. IReallyHateWhenYouTakeMyFreakingPicture:

I hate you

(Ignore the coloring. I scanned low quality because I’m not trying to reproduce.)

I — honestly — don’t hate them. In fact, I — honestly — kinda like them. Yes, BigBrother looks like a schmoozer, which is far better than his Scaredy McScaredyPants look from last year. And, really, I’d like to know how the photographer got LittleBrother to look at the camera; she’s a better man than me. Are they as good as the pictures that Heather took on family picture day? No. Do I care? No. That’s right: I don’t care. That’s right: I just let something go. Stop the presses.

So, let’s recap: I got to sleep in after a difficult night. Neither the children nor the parents dealt with any getting-ready-for-picture-day stress (that usually happens when, uh, someone else is in charge). And the end result happens to be cute (5×7 sized so as not to replace the official photos in the 8×10 frames) photos of my children?

FireDad is officially in charge of school picture day.

Not family picture day. No, that’s still a day of stress that makes everyone hate each other and end up in tears — because that’s what families are for! But school picture day? I’ll be in bed. Okay? Okay.

(This is my not-so-humorous way of saying, “Thank you, honey, for being who you are. I couldn’t do this crap without you. And yes, I said crap. I didn’t even spell it.”)